snapped,
and Grace were left alone among the ruins?

There was nothing in her tone or words to suggest such a possibility.
Susy noticed that her ill-assorted raiment was costlier in quality and
more professional in cut than the home-made garments which had draped
her growing bulk at the bungalow: it was clear that she was trying to
dress up to Nat's new situation. But, above all, she was rejoicing in
it, filling her hungry lungs with the strong air of his success. It had
evidently not occurred to her as yet that those who consent to share the
bread of adversity may want the whole cake of prosperity for themselves.

"My dear, it's too wonderful! He's told me to take as many concert and
opera tickets as I like; he lets me take all the children with me. The
big concerts don't begin till later; but of course the Opera is always
going. And there are little things--there's music in Paris at all
seasons. And later it's just possible we may get to Munich for a
week--oh, Susy!" Her hands clasped, her eyes brimming, she drank the new
wine of life almost sacramentally.

"Do you remember, Susy, when you and Nick came to stay at the bungalow?
Nat said you'd be horrified by our primitiveness-but I knew better! And
I was right, wasn't I? Seeing us so happy made you and Nick decide to
follow our example, didn't it?" She glowed with the remembrance. "And
now, what are your plans? Is Nick's book nearly done? I suppose you'll
have to live very economically till he finds a publisher. And the baby,
darling-when is that to be? If you're coming home soon I could let you
have a lot of the children's little old things."

"You're always so dear, Grace. But we haven't any special plans
as yet--not even for a baby. And I wish you'd tell me all of yours
instead."

Mrs. Fulmer asked nothing better: Susy perceived that, so far, the
greater part of her European experience had consisted in talking about
what it was to be. "Well, you see, Nat is so taken up all day with
sight-seeing and galleries and meeting important people that he hasn't
had time to go about with us; and as so few theatres are open, and
there's so little music, I've taken the opportunity to catch up with
my mending. Junie helps me with it now--she's our eldest, you remember?
She's grown into a big girl since you saw her. And later, perhaps,
we're to travel. And the most wonderful thing of all--next to Nat's
recognition, I mean--is not having to contrive and skimp, and give up
s